


(not) having a moment

by OnyxSphinx



Series: newmann one-shots [169]
Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: M/M, they're totally having a moment, this fic is incredibly soft and i shan't apologise for that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:29:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26740666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnyxSphinx/pseuds/OnyxSphinx
Summary: “Do we really have to do this?” Newt complains, over the sound of the heartbeat monitor. The sheets of the medbay bed are thin and stiff, starched and white; and they scratch at his skin. “I mean, I haven’t keeled over, and I’ve Drifted more thanyouhave.”It’s the doctor—the medical doctor, that is, not Hermann—that replies. “Doctor Geiszler,” she says, more patiently than, Newt considers, he probably deserves. “You have endured multiple medically traumatic incidents in the last twenty-four hours, and therefore, yes, we do, in fact, ‘really need to do this’.”Hermann, in the bed next to him, lets out a gusty sigh as Newt opens his mouth, and, voice slightly hoarse, interrupts him before he can even speak. “Really, Newt, now’s not the time to argue. Just…do as Doctor Robinson says, will you? Please,” he tacks on, and adjusts his position with the pillows. He’s pale, paler than usual; his eyes sunken and expression wearied—in short, he looks worse than ususal, and Newt suddenly feels a horrible pang of regret for dragging him into this all.
Relationships: Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb
Series: newmann one-shots [169]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1286762
Comments: 4
Kudos: 58





	(not) having a moment

**Author's Note:**

> anon asked: "Prompt: Eventually they just lean together and Hermann rests his head on Newt's. It's understandable. Hermann's still so tired, body working so hard to heal. It's okay if sometimes he can't hold his head up anymore and uses Newt as a pillow. Makes sense. That's what Newt tells himself. "

“Do we really have to do this?” Newt complains, over the sound of the heartbeat monitor. The sheets of the medbay bed are thin and stiff, starched and white; and they scratch at his skin. “I mean, I haven’t keeled over, and I’ve Drifted more than _you_ have.”

It’s the doctor—the medical doctor, that is, not Hermann—that replies. “Doctor Geiszler,” she says, more patiently than, Newt considers, he probably deserves. “You have endured multiple medically traumatic incidents in the last twenty-four hours, and therefore, yes, we do, in fact, ‘really need to do this’.”

Hermann, in the bed next to him, lets out a gusty sigh as Newt opens his mouth, and, voice slightly hoarse, interrupts him before he can even speak. “Really, Newt, now’s not the time to argue. Just…do as Doctor Robinson says, will you? Please,” he tacks on, and adjusts his position with the pillows. He’s pale, paler than usual; his eyes sunken and expression wearied—in short, he looks worse than ususal, and Newt suddenly feels a horrible pang of regret for dragging him into this all.

“Alright,” he concedes, after a beat; and then: “hang on, did you say—?”

“Look here, please,” Doctor Robinson says, totally ruining Newt’s train of thought. Typical, he thinks, forlornly, that just when he and Hermann could maybe have a fucking _moment,_ someone interrupts them. Not that he was going to have a moment with Hermann, probably, with the stick Hermann has up his ass.

He does as told, though; and then winces, “ _Ow!_ Hey, that’s bright—!”

Robinson hums. “Increased sensitivity,” she says, and pulls her pen out of her coat-pocket, jotting it down on the clipboard. “You’ve probably got a bit of sensory overload—makes sense, given that you’ve basically just gone and overloaded your brain.”

“Oh, great,” Newt groans, and presses his eyes shut tightly. “Just what I needed. Great. _Great._ Newt you’re gonna tell me that I gotta get an MRI done or something.”

Hermann tilts his head to look at him. “Don’t be dramatic, Newt,” he says; and _there it is again,_ he just— “really, you have to stop making—what is it, mountains out of mole mounds, yes?”

“Molehills,” Newt corrects. “And I’m not being dramatic.”

“You’re being dramatic,” Hermann says, flatly. “Doctor Robinson, please tell Doctor Geiszler, here, that he’s being dramatic. You’re not going to order an MRI.”

“We’re not going to order either of you to get an MRI,” Doctor Robinson says. “Now, Doctor Geiszler, you and Doctor Gottlieb will be staying overnight—just in case there _are_ any long-term effects that haven’t manifested themselves yet.”

“I told you you were being dramatic,” Hermann says; and closes his eyes. In the nest of white pillows and white sheets, he looks small; thin and pointy, veins just beneath his skin. Newt has the sudden urge to swaddle him in a mountain of blankets and feed him chicken-noodle soup until he gets some meat on his bones, like some sort of fussy old grandmother.

He shakes his head. They’re not going to have a moment right now. “Whatever,” he says, and swings his legs up onto the cot, leaning back into his own pillows.

Robinson fiddles with a few things, jots down some notes, and then leaves the two of them alone in the medbay.

Newt closes his eyes; tries to lean back into the pillows and get comfortable.

A few beats later, there’s a rustle of fabric; and then the creak of a cot. Newt opens his eyes to see Hermann sitting up, legs swung out over the edge of his cot. “Hermann?” he ventures, “bud, what’s up? D'you need something?”

“Er,” Hermann’s gaze flits to the ground. “Do you mind if we…sit closer together?”

He sounds embarrassed; open and vulnerable, like he’s admitting some sort of deep dark secret; lips twisted tight. Newt licks his lips. “Sure,” he says. “But I should probably come over there.”

“Oh. Yes, you’re probably right,” Hermann agrees, and swings his legs back up over onto the cot. Newt mirrors the action in reverse; thankful that the cord for the heartbeat monitor is nice and long, and waits for Hermann to shift to give him room to slide in next to him.

He does; the spot warm from where Hermann was only a few moments before; and after a few moments, Newt chances pressing slightly closer into his side. Hermann doesn’t shift, which Newt takes as a good sign.

Hermann shifts; so they’re face to face. “I’m glad it was you,” he says, apropos nothing.

“Oh?”

“There’s…no one else I would have rather Drifted with, Newt,” he says; the last bit a little bit a tad awkward; but Newt’s heart flutters a bit for it.

He doesn’t say anything though. Eventually they just lean together and Hermann rests his head on Newt’s. It’s understandable. Hermann’s still so tired, body working so hard to heal. It’s okay if sometimes he can’t hold his head up anymore and uses Newt as a pillow. Makes sense. That’s what Newt tells himself.

The alternative is accepting that they’re maybe having a Moment with a capital m, and he’s a bit too tired to deal with that right now, he realises, suddenly, eyes drooping. If it’s a Moment, then that’s for Tomorrow Newt to deal with, with its complications and its emotional odds and ends. Current Newt is just going to close his eyes and lay here with Hermann for a bit.

There’s the faintest press of skin against his hand; and Newt almost startles; only to realise it’s just Hermann’s hand, creeping into his.

Hermann’s eyes are closed; his forehead pressed against Newt’s, and he’s not saying anything about it, though, so Newt doesn’t say anything either; just lets the other slip his fingers between Newt’s, and, when they’ve settled, squeezes them lightly.

Maybe Tomorrow Newt will deal with the emotional bits, but, Newt concedes, he, as Current Newt is going to reap the benefits of it right now.

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me at [autisticharrow](https://autisticharrow.tumblr.com/) on tumblr


End file.
